


Practice Makes Perfect

by Jimena



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Self-Harm, spoilers through campaign 2 episode 32
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 19:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19951612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimena/pseuds/Jimena
Summary: Beau is spoiling for a fight and takes out her frustration on an innocent tree. Beau and Caduceus have a conversation about it.





	Practice Makes Perfect

By the end of the first week on the road to Nicodranas after their all-too-brief stay in Zadash, Beau was feeling restless. She enjoyed going new places and seeing different sights, sure, but she was pretty sure they’d been traveling through the same grassy field for three days now, and there were only so many times you could say “I spy something...green” without driving everyone mad. At this point, she’d welcome a bandit attack, a pack of wolves, maybe even a giant or two, anything to break the monotony. Hells, she’d even tried _meditating_ to pass the time, though that’d lasted all of three minutes before she’d decided that that was even more boring than the scenery. So, yeah, maybe she _was_ spoiling for a fight.

The only problem was no one would fucking fight back.

Caleb just flinched every time she snapped at him, drawing in on himself like he deserved every barb thrown his way, which just made Beau feel both guilty and more annoyed at him in equal measure, with an added bonus of Nott glaring at her for the rest of the day. It wasn’t like she actually _meant_ anything by what she said. Why did they always have to take it the worst possible way?

It was still better than Fjord though. He was...distracted at best, maybe mumbling something back half-heartedly, but more often than not just sighing and letting her needle him without comment as he scanned the road around them for the tenth time in as many minutes. At least Caleb and Nott _reacted_ , but worrying about the new weight to Fjord’s shoulders and the bags under his eyes that only seemed to get deeper with every watch he volunteered for just made her even more restless, which was the exact opposite of what she was looking for.

Jester would at least laugh and banter back and forth for a bit, but her grins still had a too-bitter edge to them that had Beau wincing every time they faltered at one of her snapped retorts that hit a little too close to home, and she found herself treading lighter and lighter in their conversations. Sure, sometimes it was a good idea to rip the bandage off quick, but not when the wounds were still raw underneath, and Jester was her _friend_. Every time her smile slipped, Beau just felt like a jerk, which again, not helpful.

As for the new guy, Caduceus, she wasn’t even sure he realized when she was picking a fight, or if he did, his response was the same as every other interaction: smile with a frankly overwhelming amount of sincerity and offer tea made from some family or other from his cemetery. Graveyard. Whatever. Either way, it was no fun (and she couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that he was doing it on purpose).

Then there was Yasha, who was just _gone_ , with no real guarantee that she’d ever be back, which wasn’t her fault, exactly, but Beau couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that if she’d just been faster, been stronger, been just...just _better_ , then Molly would still—

Gods, she never thought she’d actually miss arguing with that purple bastard.

She stood abruptly, shaking that thought from her head. “Gonna go train for a bit,” she grunted, grabbing her staff as she stalked off in the direction of the one grove of trees they’d managed to find in their travels. Her watch was almost up anyway, and it wasn’t like anyone would miss her over breakfast.

Fjord glanced up from rekindling the fire for their morning tea. He looked almost relieved, and Beau felt another brief stab of guilt at that. “Good idea. Just stay close, and holler if you need help.”

Beau waved one hand in acknowledgement, biting her tongue on yet another cutting jibe about how she hadn’t been the one kidnapped, damn it; she knew how to look after herself. Fjord didn’t deserve that, and she knew he meant well. She did. She really did. But she was getting tired of the taste of blood in her mouth.

Still, she didn’t go far, a stubborn sense of responsibility and a graveside promise both keeping her within easy shouting distance of her companions should the need arise.

She warmed up with few stretches before moving into some slow forms that gradually gained speed until her fists were a mere blur, whirling and striking the empty air of the small clearing in a bid to rid herself of some of the nervous energy that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface of her skin. She stopped, fist raised, just inches from the trunk of the largest tree, considering the itching sensation in her knuckles. She didn't just want to move; she wanted to _hit,_ and, well, she could always use more practice hitting her stuns properly. Visualizing the ki patterns in her head, she came to a decision and moved.

_Female half-orc, 6 ft. tall_

She slammed her fist up into the nerve cluster in the neck before taking a quick hop back and ducking an imaginary axe swing. She shook her head. Off. Always off. She wiped the bark off her knuckles and considered the tree again, mapping the next ki pattern on her mental list over the knots and whorls of its trunk.

_Male halfling, 3 ft. 2 in. tall_

She compensated for the shorter height by sending a front kick into his chest, knocking him back against the wall before delivering a devastating flurry of blows into his torso. 

Or it was supposed to be devastating anyway. Her first stun went wild, just glancing off the side of the trunk, leaving her wide open to a retaliatory blow that she just barely knocked aside before stepping back with a growl of frustration.

“Sloppy,” Tubo had said back during her brief training session at the Cobalt Soul, as he’d neatly sidestepped yet another attempted stun of hers and sent her stumbling away with a well-placed foot to her knee. “You’re going to get someone killed if you can’t make your strikes connect properly in an actual fight.”

Beau had flinched at that, more so than at any of the new bruises littering her body. Tubo must have noticed, for he’d been...gentler after that, if no less demanding as he set her to practicing the same move over and over again until she could perform it to his satisfaction.

The memory set Beau’s teeth on edge. She didn’t need his misplaced pity, she needed to be fucking _better_. So no, she wasn’t going to practice until she got it right. She was going to practice until she couldn’t get it wrong. She set herself in position and struck again. And again. And again.

_Indeterminate dragonborn, 5 ft. 9 in. tall_

_Male elf, 5 ft. 5 in. tall_

_Indeterminate half-elf, 5 ft. 8 in. tall_

_Female dark elf..._

On and on the list went as Beau worked her way through all the patterns she had studied and those she had picked up along their travels (because for some reason, the scrolls had never covered categories like “demon toad man” or “massive fucking hill giant”), until she finally came to a stop. She leaned on her knees, breathing hard as she mentally checked off every pattern she’d done. Her breath stuttered as she reached the bottom of the list, and she straightened, hands balling into tight fists as she turned slowly back to the tree. She’d forgotten one.

_Human male, 6 ft. 7 in. tall_

Splinters bit into her hand as she struck the solar plexus, but she ignored them. Too slow, too fucking slow. 

_Human male, 6 ft. 7 in. tall, bald_

She ducked, swearing she could hear the whistle of a glaive swing over her head. Leaping to the side, she swung into the kidney from behind, giving it a vicious twist. 

_Human male, 6 ft. 7 in. tall, bald, black tattoos curling up his face and neck. Only he hadn’t been human, had he?_

A slight breeze set the leaves rustling overhead, and Beau shivered as the cool air ghosted over her skin. She rubbed one arm briefly, brushing off half-remembered frost before whirling on the tree with renewed purpose.

_Human male, 6 ft. 7 in. tall, bald, black tattoos curling up his face and neck, cold eyes over a sneering grin as he twisted the glaive in his hands down, down, down…_

“C’mon, work already!” Beau grit out as she brutally jabbed at every nerve cluster she could visualize, wild swings far from the precision needed for such a task. She’d done this before. Too late, of course, but if she could ensure that wouldn’t happen again…

Something in her hand gave way with an ominous pop.

“Fuck!” she swore loudly, grabbing her hand and examining her bleeding knuckles and rapidly swelling finger.

“I do not know what personal grudge you have against that particular tree,” a soft voice drawled from behind her, “but it appears to be winning.”

Beau glanced over her shoulder to see Caduceus standing there with a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a placid smile on his face. She grimaced, forcing her fingers into a tight fist, watching it tremble slightly before turning back to the tree. 

Behind her, Caduceus cleared his throat. “That does not seem wise,” he said, nodding his head towards her hand when she looked back.

“You gonna stop me?” Beau asked, bristling.

The firbolg gave her a considering look then slowly shook his head. “By all means, continue your grudge match with the tree.” He sat down, cross-legged on the ground, looking up at the sunlight dappling the leaves above. “I do apologize for the intrusion,” he said, seemingly to the empty air as a slight breeze rustled through the tree branches.

Well alright then. Beau tested her hand, opening and closing it slowly. Painful, yes, but manageable. She could fight with worse, _had_ fought with worse. No sense being a baby about it.

She settled back into the rhythm, running through the ki patterns again from the top, fists punching into the bark time after time after time. She was going to get it right this time. She had to.

A soft melody filled the air, breaking her concentration, and Beau looked over to see Caduceus humming seemingly absentmindedly to himself, eyes closed as he enjoyed his tea.

“Do you want something?” Beau finally snapped, breathing hard as she paused to catch her breath.

Caduceus opened his eyes and blinked at her owlishly. “No,” he said after a long moment of deliberation.

Beau could have throttled him. Instead, she took a deep breath and let it out. “Then why are you here?” she asked with what she thought was a frankly admirable lack of annoyance in her voice.

Judging from Caduceus’ knowing look, she still needed to work on the whole facial expression thing. He seemed to let it slide though, merely taking another long sip of his tea. “I cannot enjoy a beautiful morning in good company?” he asked.

“I’m really not good company,” Beau said quietly, leaning back against the tree. “Not right now.” Her whole arm was shaking now, and blood dripped into the dirt from torn and bruised knuckles.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Caduceus said with a slight frown. “But to answer your original question, this seemed like a nice, quiet spot to meditate for a few moments before we began traveling again. It’s quite comforting, really, even when the Wildmother doesn’t speak, and I’ve found that you can learn quite a bit about things by just sitting quietly and listening to whatever’s around.”

Beau pushed herself off the tree with a grunt and took up a defensive stance. “Can’t relate.” She began to duck and weave, dodging the blows of multiple imaginary foes. She saw her chance and took it, darting forward to slam her fist into a nerve cluster. Not good enough. She winced, withdrawing her hand from the bark. Never good enough.

“So what have you learned?” she tossed over her shoulder as she took up position once again. 

“You are in pain,” Caduceus said softly.

Beau snorted, blood flecking the dirt as she shook her hands out. She forced them back into trembling fists. “Brilliant insight.” She lashed out at the air, whirling and spinning her way across the clearing towards the tree, waiting for the opportunity to present itself. _There!_ She lunged forward, almost feeling the visceral sensation of a nose crunching under the heel of her hand. It wasn't a strike meant to stun, but to inflict maximum pain, and she'd be lying if she said that there wasn't a sick sort of satisfaction in that if nothing else.

Caduceus shook his head. “I did not mean in the physical sense.”

“Then what did you mean?” Beau asked absently as she began another runup to the tree.

“You have not lost a loved one before, have you?”

Beau’s steps faltered, and there was another sharp pop as her hand bounced awkwardly off the tree. She swore, grabbing her arm as pain lanced all the way up through her elbow. "Fucking warn a girl before you say shit like that!" she grit out through clenched teeth, hissing in pain as she tried to move her hand.

“May I?”

Beau glanced up to see Caduceus towering over her now, tea set aside for the moment as he held out a softly glowing hand in invitation.

“Well I’d be fucking useless in an actual fight like this, so knock yourself out,” she relented with a sigh, offering up the offending limb with a wince.

“Why would I—ah, a figure of speech.” He sat cross-legged on the ground and patted the grass in front of him in invitation. “Sit, please. It’s much easier to work when I’m not bent in half.”

“You calling me short?” Beau growled as she gingerly lowered herself to the ground.

Caduceus cocked his head to the side curiously as he took her hand between his. “I don’t recall doing so,” he said with a slight shrug, “but I do forget things from time to time.” He closed his eyes, and the soft green light around his hands glowed brighter.

Beau felt warmth pulse through her limbs, and she watched as her torn and bleeding knuckles closed with a sparkle of light and the soreness from her practice abated. She nearly sagged in relief when the pain in her hand finally vanished.

Caduceus opened his eyes with a sigh and released her hand, watching her flex her fingers experimentally.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Caduceus asked after a moment, handing her his still-warm tea.

Beau hands stilled around the cup she’d automatically accepted. “No.”

Caduceus nodded. “Alright then. Drink, please. It’s good for you, increases the body’s natural healing process.”

Beau obediently took a sip, wondering morbidly who she was currently drinking. Huh. Not bad. She watched the greenish liquid spin as she swirled the cup around. “He wasn’t, by the way,” she clarified. She didn’t want to talk about it, sure, but she felt a need to set the record straight all the same.

“I’m sorry?” Caduceus said, baffled expression on his face.

“Molly, the guy who...died. He wasn’t a loved one.” 

Caduceus cocked his head to the side. “I thought you were friends?”

Beau sucked in a shaky breath. “The others might have been, sure. I just thought he was an obnoxious, self-righteous asshole. Couldn’t stand bein’ in the same room as him half the time. Pretty sure the feeling was mutual.”

“Ah, not friends then. Family,” Caduceus corrected himself.

“ _Hell_ no,” Beau said viciously, downing the rest of the tea in one swift gulp before shoving the cup back roughly into Caduceus’ hands. “He may have been a jerk, but he wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“Worse than friends, but better than family?" Caduceus shook his head. "That seems backwards.”

Beau snorted. “Wait ‘til you meet my family then.” She paused and considered her words before glancing up warily at Caduceus. “That wasn’t an invitation by the way.”

“Noted.”

“It’s just…he was a good person underneath the infuriating personality, and then he had the damn gall to up and die taking a hit for an asshole like me.” Beau sighed and fell back into the grass, arms outstretched. “It’s just...things were so much easier when I didn't give a shit about anyone else, y’know?”

Caduceus hummed in the back of his throat. “Easier, yes, but lonelier too, I imagine.”

Beau snorted. “Coming from the guy who had his bags packed for months before taking off with the first group of weirdos to drop by.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Beau propped herself up on her elbows to shoot him an incredulous look. “Please, it’s not like you have the monopoly on creepy insights on people. I just know when to keep my goddamn mouth shut about it.”

“Like you’re doing now?”Caduceus pointed out mildly.

“You know what? Fair. _Sometimes_ I know when to keep quiet. Most of the time, I just like to know.” She poked him hard in the arm as she hauled herself to her feet with a grunt of effort. “But if you're gonna lie like that, you gotta really sell it man.”

“Sell it,” Caduceus echoed with a frown.

“It’s the face. You’re too open of a book.” She held out a hand to help him to his feet. “Tell you what, we’ll work on it. Call it payment for helping me out with my hand.” She scooped up her staff and leaned on it as she glanced over towards the blood-stained tree. “And, uh, can we keep this between us? The others, they’ve got enough on their plates right now. They don’t need to see...this.”

Caduceus regarded her for a long moment.

“What?” Beau asked finally.

“You give yourself too little credit, you know,” Caduceus said with a frown.

Beau frowned “How’s that?”

“You’re a good person, too.”

“I’m really not,” Beau said quietly, shoulders slumping, ”But I’m trying to be a better one.” 

“Beau! Caduceus!” Jester’s voice floated towards them on the breeze. “You’re missing breakfast! I’m going to eat all the pastries if you don’t get over here!”

“You heard the lady,” Caduceus said mildly, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and I, for one, wouldn’t mind another cup of tea.”

Beau cracked a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was a start. “Stale doughnuts and tea? How can I refuse?” She knocked her fist against Caduceus’ arm as she passed. “Thanks, man.”

Caduceus inclined his head, watching as lichen crawled its way up the blood-spattered tree until nothing remained but a smooth green surface. “Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> "I wish I knew how to quit you," I whisper to myself as I pull this fic out of my scrapped ideas folder for the tenth time.
> 
> Anyways, have my take on characters avoiding dealing with the aftermath of character death! Hope ya'll enjoyed!


End file.
